


The Taste of You

by Cranky_Tanky



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drinking, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Painting, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/pseuds/Cranky_Tanky
Summary: Rung's got it bad for Starscream. Starscream's got it bad for Rung. And both of them hate Megatron. They're perfect for each other.
Relationships: Rung/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	The Taste of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roboticscreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticscreen/gifts).



“So Megatron is in  _ therapy  _ now, eh? Who would’ve guessed it.” Starscream twitched his wings, sipping his drink and cackling lowly over the sparkling fuschia swill. The bar was lively around them, full of chatter.

“You’re not the one that has to deal with him in there,” Rung sighed, drinking his own mug. It left a smear of creamed foam on his lip, which he ducked his head to wipe off with the side of his thumb. It got foam in the seam where his microphone joined his thumbpad and he sighed harder, grabbing a napkin to clean it off.

“Oh, my dear Rung,” Starscream cooed, putting his drink down to lean his chin forwards onto the backs of his intertwined hands. His elbows bumped the table before he propped them onto it. “You’ve  _ got  _ to give me more than that!”

“I absolutely do not,” the psychbot laughed, taking another swig out of his mug. “Stop, you.”

“Oh, pretty please.” Starscream batted his eyelashes.

“ I can’t give you any details --  _ obviously  _ \-- but hypothetically, one could possibly say that the esteemed… warrior, shall we say? Is a pain in my ass.” The psychbot speared Starscream with a Look. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Fine.” Starscream sighed, leaning back and kicking his feet up. “Cute  _ and  _ upstanding. My weakness.”

“Oh, stop it.” Rung rolled his eyes, but tried not to smile and blush. “Flirt. Flattery will get you nowhere.” 

There was a long, long silence.

"D'oh, fine," Rung tutted, antennae twitching. "He's horrible! It's all about stroking his own ego. Of course, I don't make it easy."

"Mhm." Starscream nodded smugly, loathe to draw attention to the fact that Rung was being uncharacteristically loose-lipped. 

"It's my job to help someone work through their problems, but he's only making them worse! I --" Rung cut himself off mid-rant and came back to himself, cheeks flushed bright fuschia. "Oh, goodness, I seem to have forgotten myself." His antennae twitched again, fiercely.

"Well, there's certainly no ethics board here," Starscream shrugged blithely, and Rung tsked in indignation and gently smacked his knee. 

"Starscream! You did that on purpose. Well, no more from me!"

"Fine, fine." Starscream sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. He pulled a cygar from his subspace and proferred it. "Can you forgive me?"

"Hmph." Rung sniffled, full of indignance, and snatched the cygar, lighting it up and turning the dial for a heavier smoke. "I suppose," he muttered, prim and proper, but trying not to smile.

A smirk eked its way across the Seeker's face. So few knew the real Rung. Oh sure, they saw him out and about, even smoking, or drinking, or the memorable occasion he'd gotten caught with Starscream in a closet, but he slid out of their minds like oil. They didn't know the real Rung -- the petty, witty, tantalizing one. He wasn't fake -- far from it, he was so genuine and kind it made Starscream want to vomit -- but nobody bothered to get to know him.

And that was a damn shame. He was a  _ riot. _

Rung handed the cygar back to Starscream for a drag, and their fingers touched. Rung's wax was fresh, but his paint was chipping at the joints, like he hadn't repainted in a while. His touch was electric. Starscream gently took the cygar and put it between his teeth, speaking around it as he puffed and dragged. "Well, good." He could feel the psychbot's eyes on him, lingering too long and hungry. He preened a little, sitting up straighter and exhaling smoke through his nose. "Say, Rung." Normally, Starscream would've given him a nickname by now, but Rung looked so happy every time the Seeker remembered his name that Starscream didn't have the spark.

"Hm?" Rung perked a little, finishing off his drink.

"Your paint is looking a little sad at the joints."

"And you look lovely as well, Starscream."

"Shut up. Anyways, fancy a repaint?"

"Oh." Rung blushed a little. "Well, I suppose it is time. Just around the joints, though. No need to make a production out of it." He took the cygar back as Starscream handed it to him.

"You, my dear, need to learn a little narcissism," Starscream announced proudly, getting up and offering his elbow. Rung laughed and placed his hand over it, allowing Starscream to guide him back to his hab, where they set up a tarp for him to sit on and brought out the paint. The cygar landed on the paint shelf, forgotten. Smoke trickled out of it to pool on the shelf and cascade down to wreath around them in hazy, soft ribbons. The lighting grew just this side of dreamy, even as the smoke was being drawn out through the vents. The lights in the ceiling grew lambent and soft.

"Just the joints!" Rung insisted.

"Just the joints," Starscream said, humoringly as he waggled his detail brush. "Though I'm a little insulted you think I can't make a production out of a little touchup."

"Huh! I'd like to see you try."

"Well, you asked for it," Starscream said smugly, and started at his first target -- the top of Rung's foot where it connected to his ankle. First, he leaned down, and pressed his lips to it, ignoring the fire and the sound of Rung's little engine revving.

"You are  _ not _ going to do that with every spot… are you?" Rung's antennae laid back, jumping just a little.

Starscream didn't answer, simply dotting on the paint before smoothing it out and moving to the next foot, repeating the process.

"Really Starscream, this is highly ridiculous." Rung was blushing -- the Seeker could hear it in his voice. "I told you no production!"

"You said you'd like to see me try," Starscream mumbled against his knee before pulling away to paint. "This is me, trying."

"That is not what I meant and you know it!" Rung huffed and puffed, all ruffled and perturbed.

"Please." Starscream moved on to his other knee. "You're far too unappreciated. Let me spoil you."

Rung didn't say anything to that, but he squirmed with each spot Starscream hit. His hips, where they connected to his pelvis. Then his belly, just underneath the orange plating around his lovely spark, so richly on display. Starscream laid a single kiss over the clear glass casing, unable to help himself. The way it flared captivated him.

"Aht-! You're not painting  _ that!" _

Chuckling, Starscream moved on. The shoulders, the elbows… the wrists. Each delicate finger, each knuckle. Starscream kissed them all in turn and then painted them. Finally, he made his way up to the final spot -- Rung had a horrible habit of chewing the left side of his lower lip, and always wore the paint away in a patch. But his teeth against the plump, supple metal were always so alluring.

Starscream leaned in, smelling the faint smoke on Rung's breath. From this close, at this tilted angle, he could see Rung's optics shutter halfway behind his unreadable goggles, and the psychbot leaned forwards, expectant. 

"One last spot," Starscream murmured, almost inaudibly, against his lips.

"And you know you'll have to put some lacquer over every spot once it's all dry," Rung replied, equally hushed.

"Primus, I hope so," Starscream growled, and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> For my wife, Screen <3


End file.
